My first Love Story

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along.

– Rumi, tr, by Coleman Barks


The Temple of Love

The temple of love is not love itself;
True love is the treasure,
Not the walls about it.
Do not admire the decoration,
But involve yourself in the essence,
The perfume that invades and touches you-
The beginning and the end.
Discovered, this replace all else,
The apparent and the unknowable.
Time and space are slaves to this presence.

– Rumi


Light Up The Fire

I gaze into the heart, lowly it may be,
Thought the words be higher still.
For the heart is all the substance,
The speech an accident.
How many phrases will you speak,
Too many for me.
How much burning, burning will you feel,
Be friendly with the fire, enough for me.
Light up the fire of love inside,
And blaze the thoughts away.

– Rumi



Spiritual joys come only from solitude,
So the wise choose the bottom of the well,
For the darkness down there beats
The darkness up here.
He who follows at the heels of the world
Never saves his head.

– Rumi



Love makes bitter things sweet.
Love turns copper to gold.

With love dregs settle into clarity.
With love suffering ceases.

Love brings the dead back to life.
Love transforms the King into a slave.

Love is the consummation of Gnosis.
How could a fool sit on such a throne?

– Rumi

Visit the Sick

Visit the sick, and you will heal yourself.
The ill person may be a Sufi master,
And your kindness will be repaid in wisdom.
Even if the sick person is your enemy,
You will still benefit,
For kindness has the power to transform
Sworn enemies into firm friends.
And if there is no healing of bad feeling,
There certainly will be less ill will,
Because kindness is the greatest of all balms.

– Rumi

The Book of Sufi Wisdom

The book of Sufi wisdom
Is not written on the blank page,
But on a heart white as virgin snow.
Scholars pursue penmarks.
Sufis track footprints in the snow,
Like hunters tracing a musk – deer’s trail,
Until they breathe in the sweet scent
That the deer exudes from its navel,
And rush to catch their quarry.

From: Rumi Wisdom

By: Timothy Freke